The Young Lion by Blanche d'Alpuget Page A

Next day her husband came in a carriage and did the same. Stephen had promised him an earldom, then turned his back on him.’
    Henry listened carefully. ‘Have they contributed to our campaign?’
    ‘William’s been generous.’
    ‘Money? Or knights?’
    ‘He has few knights. But lots of money. He’s contributed that.’ He gave Henry a searching look. ‘You don’t seem impressed.’
    ‘I despise vassals who break their vows to a king, even if he’s my enemy.’ Henry noted the sharp glint in David’s eye and continued, ‘I except Earl Ranulf and the Earl of Essex. They were justified.’
    The monarch gave a grunt that could indicate satisfaction.
    By the conclusion of the banquet, the knighthood had not been mentioned.
    ‘Maybe I need to lead and win a battle in his war before he’ll knight me,’ Henry said to Guillaume on the way up to their bedchamber.
    He was in the depths of sleep when a hand clapped over his mouth and a second one grasped his shoulder.

CHAPTER FIVE
    The only light was from torches left burning in the corridor outside. It revealed bulk but gave the barest outline of the man who stood silently beside the sleeping platform.
    Henry realised it was Douglas.
    He shuffled his feet to wake the interpreter but there was no sign of the child, although he had been there earlier when they went to bed. Henry’s immediate instinct was to wake Guillaume, but Douglas gestured vehemently, warning him not to. He turned in profile so the dim yellow light from the torch shone on him; with a finger to his lips he jerked his head towards the open doorway. Guillaume had locked the door, Henry remembered.
    Henry moved stealthily from beneath the stitched sheepskin cover and followed Douglas.
    Outside, he realised Douglas had already removed from the chamber Henry’s tunic, braes, riding boots, belt, dagger and a riding cloak lined with fox-fur, the warmest he had.
    They descended five flights of stone steps, dashed across a balcony, ran down a short staircase and entered the stables. Six horses were waiting: two saddled, the extra four on leads. Why, he wondered. Will we not pick up fresh horses on the way?
    Under the light of a torch in the stables Douglas handed Henrya note embossed with the King’s unicorns. It bore the seal DR, Davidus Rex . It said:
    Douglas will conduct you to the Tree of Immortality. There you are to cross midnight. In that realm you will encounter your enemy, whom you must defeat if you are ever to become a king. May the Almighty be with you; may the Sun Hero guide you.
    He read it twice: it made no more sense on the second reading. His heart was already pounding.
    They mounted, took two horses each and rode into a midnight world of silence but for the sound of hooves and quiet snorting. Henry looked to the sky to try to determine the direction in which they travelled but cloud hid the constellations and the moon.
    Douglas did not speak, even to the horses. They rode until Henry sensed his mount was tiring. As if he had shouted it out, Douglas stopped. Henry tried to undo the saddle but found himself fumbling in the dark. Douglas changed his own saddle then finished Henry’s work for him. In the cold night air their piss steamed like water from a kettle, and the horses’ breath made a diaphanous vapour against the blackness. From a goatskin bottle Douglas offered Henry a drink that burned his tongue and made him want to gag. But it was astonishingly warming. Douglas also had small flat oaten cakes. The night was now so cold Henry was more keen to remount than to stand around and eat.
    As dawn broke he realised they were on ground much higher than Carlisle. They had travelled north-east and crossed many rivers, mostly clattering across bridges, but several rivers they had had to ford. His frozen feet felt dead inside his boots. Thick damp mists draped mountainsides that reared around them. All through the night he had seen no sign of human habitation: no torches on the walls of a